Goodnight, Beloved
by ceemonster
Summary: Roxton/Marguerite Multi-Story (That's all you're getting!)
1. Explination

"Goodnight, Beloved"

Author: Little Bird a.k.a. Caitlin ([Crowbo13@aol.com)][1]

Rating: PG (Some swearing)

Summary: M/R fic . . . You have to read it. :p No spoilers.

Disclaimer: Someone else owns all the characters as well as the Lost World. I'm just having fun with them. 

Dedication: This is to all my friends on the TLW official board. I love you guys!

Author's notes: This is my first TLW fic . . . but I would love for you to read and review it. Please, no flames, but constructive criticism is welcomed. I originally wrote this fic as one based on 'Imzadi' and as a song fic ('Lullaby' by Billy Joel), but I didn't like the way it came out . . . so I totally revamped it to the point where is no longer even resembles the original story save for one or two lines. Even the song was cut. What you see on your screen is the end-product.

Archive: Surely, just e-mail me the link!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Explanation:

Okay . . . while writing this story, I face a big problem . . . I didn't know how to end it. It's not that I didn't have an ending . . . quite the opposite, I had three. At first, I thought, 'Oh, I'm gonna be nice.' Then, I realized I was talking about myself, and face it, I'm not nice. And the other . . . I don't know where it came from.

So, I decided that I would write the story three times, each with an alternative ending. One is liable to get my head served on a silver platter at the next TLW Board Picnic and Bar-B-Q; one is gonna save me, and the 3rd . . . let's just say I know I will get mixed reviews.

I wanna especially thank Arms/Chris, my partner in crime . . . I wuv you!

Now, without further rambling, I present my first TLW fic . . . 'Goodnight, Beloved'

   [1]: mailto:(Crowbo13@aol.com)



	2. Story 1

~*~

As first light slowly crept into the Treehouse, Lord John Roxton rolled over to find his bed empty and his wife missing. "Marguerite?" he called softly as stepped out from beneath the covers and pulled on his pants. "Where are you?"

Roxton peeked out of the bedroom and spied his raven-haired bride in the kitchen. "What are YOU doing up at this hour?" he asked her unbelievingly.

"I'm hungry. Does that satisfy your curiosity? Besides, it's not like you can blame me for it." Marguerite smiled as one of her hands dropped to caress her somewhat bulging stomach. The other carried a plate on which several different types of fruit, Raptor mean, and what appeared to be a mound of unidentifiable green mush, were piled on.

"What the devil is that?" Roxton exclaimed, referring to the emerald colored concoction.

"To tell you the truth . . . I'm not quite sure." She answered, sauntering toward the table. "But Assai said it's good for the baby. She bought it up last night while you were out hunting with Malone."

Roxton just shook his head as he pulled out her chair. However, as he did so, his elbow accidently bumped into the plate, which sent it to the ground, and its contents all over Marguerite.

"John! Look what you did! You practically ruined the only nightgown I have that still fits! I don't know if this stuff stains . . . "

Despite the look of disgust on Marguerite's face, John found it hard to resist the smile that threatened to spread across his own. "Oh, come now, love, it isn't that bad. We'll just put it downstairs with the rest of the wash and then go to the water hole to get the . . . um . . . well, to wash it out of your hair."

"You got it in my hair!?!"

~*~

After writing a short note to the others, Lord and Lady Roxton walked to the water hole. Marguerite quickly undressed and entered the cool water, leaving her husband behind on the shore.

Sitting on a larger boulder, Roxton realized how much he loved watching her like this; the sunlight breaking through the treetops to illuminate her wet skin, as if with a heavenly glow. He sighed contently. They had been married for almost a year now, and with their wedding vows still fresh in their minds, were expecting their first child in only a few months. After all they had been through together, all the tortures and horrors, it finally seemed that the pieces of the giant jigsaw called 'Life' were falling into place. 

"Are you going to help me button this or what?" Marguerite's sharp tone broke through his private musings. Roxton looked up only to find her standing on the shore, mostly dressed, save for the skirt which refused to be fastened. Smiling, he placed his gun beside the rock, stood up and went to her.

"Why must you insist on wearing this particular skirt? You haven't been able to button it yourself for almost two weeks now."

  
  


"Because I like being difficult, that's why. And you wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Sure about that, are you?" He asked as he finally managed to slip the button through its hole.

Marguerite turned to face him, her elegant eyebrows raised, but her reply died in her throat as Roxton quickly bent and kissed her fully on the lips. After a few moments, Marguerite backed away slightly; a mischievous, catlike smirk dancing across her face.

"Why, Lord Roxton! Isn't it beneath the nobility to be affectionate in public?"

"True, your Ladyship, but there is no one around to see us." A soft laugh escaped Marguerite as Roxton moved forward to embrace her once more.

A twig broke somewhere under the jungle foliage.

Roxton's head quickly snapped up and he began to survey the area. All sounds had ceased. There were no birds nor insects, only the thumping of his own chest.

"Marguerite," he whispered. "Get behind the bushes behind you." He indicated the plants which were several yards in the direction opposite from where the sound had emitted. Marguerite quickly obeyed, having the sense not to be stubborn and refuse to leave his side. She had a child to protect now, as well as herself. 

Roxton started to move back toward the boulder, where he had left his gun.

But he wasn't fast enough.

From behind several trees, six vicious savages, clothed in animal hides with their bodies painted several shades of green and brown, appeared, armed with crude, but effective-looking, bows and hatchets.

The tallest, and presumably their leader, stepped forward, swinging one of the hatchets. Roxton easily avoided the stone blade and made a dash for the gun. Two of the warriors fell on him, pinning him to the ground. No matter how hard he fought them, writhing, twisting, even biting, they would not let go. A shadow fell across his face, and looking up he saw he chief standing over him, the hatchet held high.

"No!"

The shout came from about fifteen feet away, but three of the savages quickly silenced the source with their arrows. 

Roxton twisted just in time to see Marguerite's body fall to the ground.

"Marguerite!"

The cry, ripped from his soul, started the warriors. Their chief, recovering first, glared at his men, then began yelling in their native tongue, gesturing violently every so often toward the unmoving form of Marguerite. Striding to the three archers, he backhanded them, then pointed toward the jungle, as if ordering them out of his sight.

But Roxton's eyes never left his beloved wife, and he hardly noticed when the two savages who were holding him tightly to the ground released his arms. They, too, went off into the trees. Jumping up quickly, Roxton glanced at the chief, who's eyes flashed with momentary sympathy and sorrow, before he disappeared after his warriors.

  
  


Pausing only a second in fear of a other attack, Roxton ran to where Marguerite lay still. He gray eyes were closed and as he knelt by her side, he saw three arrows protruding from the Heiress' body; one in her left arm, one slightly above her heart, and one from her swollen abdomen.

"No, Marguerite," he whispered as he swept her into his arms; her dark tresses flowing over his strong arms like an ebony waterfall. "Don't you dare leave me...You can't give up, damn it."

Roxton started to run. He was a strong man by nature, and now, driven by fear and adrenaline, he hardly felt Marguerite's weight at all. As he swiftly dodged trees and vines, he kept whispering to her, afraid that his pleading voice was the only thing keep his wife in the realm of the living. 

Nearing the Treehouse, the hunter call out, his voice choked with the dirt of the grave. "Challenger! Veronica....Malone! Marguerite's been shot!"

~*~

Roxton sat on the balcony while Challenger painstakingly 'operated' on Marguerite in the lab. He didn't even look up as Malone sat down opposite him.

"John," he began. "Veronica's in there now...She's trying to help Challenger.."

Of course, Roxton already know that, but he nodded anyway. 

The reporter watched the other man as he, in turn, gazed out across the plateau, a deathly silence hanging over them like a shroud. Ned sighed, stood, and was about to return to kitchen duty when Roxton suddenly spoke.

"What I don't understand...what makes no sense...is that the savages stopped attacking after they shot her.." The Lord's voice trailed off as he looked up at the younger man. "I mean...they came after me, but when they realized they had hit Marguerite, they stopped...if they were after me, why not finish the job?"

"Well..." said Malone, thinking hard. "I remember reading something in one of Veronica's father's journals about a tribe who found it 'unjust' to kill, even injure, a woman because they were the weaker sex and naturally defenseless...By shooting Marguerite, they had broken a 'code of honor.'" 

Again, Roxton nodded, his haunted eyes searching the jungle once more. Ned followed his gaze, then turned to enter the kitchen. As he made his way through the living area, Malone was almost plowed down by a sniffling Veronica.

She glanced up at him, her normally stunning eyes filled with sadness, then turned to the balcony. The second she stepped out, Roxton was on his feet.

"How is she?...the baby?"

Veronica could only shake her head. "The baby...didn't make it...Challenger tried so hard...but there was nothing...He doesn't think Marguerite will..." She embraced him tightly, sobbing openly. " I am so sorry, John."

As they separated, John looked into the eyes of the young woman he had come to love as a sister, and saw the pain reflected in his own. "I have to see her." Kissing Veronica's forehead, he moved toward the laboratory. 

Marguerite lay on a table, her hair encircling her head like a dark halo. Thankfully, the arrows had been removed, but blood still seeped through the bandages.

"It doesn't look good, old boy." Roxton looked over his shoulder to see Challenger. "The arrows were laced with a slow-acting poison. I was going to send Veronica to search for a plant Arthur and I discovered years back, but I doubt an antidote could be made fast enough... She has lost a considerable amount of blood..."

"We have to try! We owe it to her...Dammit, I owe it to her."

Challenger nodded, and moved out of the room, leaving Roxton with his Sleeping Beauty.

He knelt once more by his beloved Marguerite, feeling his heart in his throat. Roxton carefully held one of her delicate hands in his much larger ones, whispering words of comfort to her. "Please, Marguerite, don't leave me. I love you too much...I...I can't bare to see you lying there, so defenseless. Please, don't leave me...I need you to stay." Unable to hold the tears back any longer, they flowed down his cheeks, with Roxton making no attempt to stop them. 

Closing his eyes, the hunter did something he couldn't remember having done since childhood; he prayed. He prayed for whatever gods or deities there were to help her, to help the both of the.

Roxton was so involved in his heart-filled plea, that he barely noticed his name being whispered.

"John?"

He opened his eyes and found two beautiful gray once staring back. "Marguerite!"

"John..."

"I'm here love. I'm right here...I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Roxton held her hand tighter, willing his strength to her.

"John, it hurts...I...I can't do it...My stomach feels like it is on fire, and I. can't...I can't feel the baby." Marguerite closed her eyes in pain, and Roxton, fearing the worst, called out to her again.

"Marguerite, I want to help you, to take the pain away...but I don't know how. Please, just don't leave me. I don't know how I will survive if I lose you now."

A wave a relief flooded through his body as she opened her eyes once more. However, this time, Roxton saw the pain and weariness that consumed her soul. It was then that he realized how selfish he was being. Pressing her hand to his heart, Roxton whispered, "I am sorry, Marguerite...I am so sorry. I shouldn't ask you to put yourself through so much pain for me..." He voice caught slightly, but pushing it down, he managed to continue. "Rest. Sleep, darling, and dream of the time we shared. I will always remember you, my love. And our baby." He caressed her cheek, brushing away her tears. "Goodnight, beloved. Sweet dreams and we will be together again...I promise." 

Marguerite raised a trembling hand to brush a piece of hair from John's face one last time. "I'll tell our daughter how much you loved her..."

"Daughter?"

She smiled slyly. "Yes. I had a feeling that the baby was a girl...And I believe you John. I have faith that we will be together again. I might not have felt that way when we first landed in the god-forsaken place....but now....Anything is possible."

"Faith..."Roxton whispered; his head screaming that time was short. "Christina Faith Roxton. A perfect name for our baby..."

Marguerite nodded and turned her tear-filled eyes toward the setting sun. "Hold me, John. Please...just one more time."

He smiled sadly at her, and nodded. Getting up, he rolled her over slightly, but gently, and slid behind her, his arms circling her waist.

When Challenger walked into the room twenty minutes later, he found the once proud Lord John Roxton sobbing into the raven tresses of his beloved, departed wife.

~*~


	3. Story 2

~*~

As first light slowly crept into the Treehouse, Lord John Roxton rolled over to find his bed empty and his wife missing. "Marguerite?" he called softly as stepped out from beneath the covers and pulled on his pants. "Where are you?"

Roxton peeked out of the bedroom and spied his raven-haired bride in the kitchen. "What are YOU doing up at this hour?" he asked her unbelievingly.

"I'm hungry. Does that satisfy your curiosity? Besides, it's not like you can blame me for it." Marguerite smiled as one of her hands dropped to caress her somewhat bulging stomach. The other carried a plate on which several different types of fruit, Raptor mean, and what appeared to be a mound of unidentifiable green mush, were piled on.

"What the devil is that?" Roxton exclaimed, referring to the emerald colored concoction.

"To tell you the truth . . . I'm not quite sure." She answered, sauntering toward the table. "But Assai said it's good for the baby. She bought it up last night while you were out hunting with Malone."

Roxton just shook his head as he pulled out her chair. However, as he did so, his elbow accidently bumped into the plate, which sent it to the ground, and its contents all over Marguerite.

"John! Look what you did! You practically ruined the only nightgown I have that still fits! I don't know if this stuff stains . . . "

Despite the look of disgust on Marguerite's face, John found it hard to resist the smile that threatened to spread across his own. "Oh, come now, love, it isn't that bad. We'll just put it downstairs with the rest of the wash and then go to the water hole to get the . . . um . . . well, to wash it out of your hair."

"You got it in my hair!?!"

~*~

After writing a short note to the others, Lord and Lady Roxton walked to the water hole. Marguerite quickly undressed and entered the cool water, leaving her husband behind on the shore.

Sitting on a larger boulder, Roxton realized how much he loved watching her like this; the sunlight breaking through the treetops to illuminate her wet skin, as if with a heavenly glow. He sighed contently. They had been married for almost a year now, and with their wedding vows still fresh in their minds, were expecting their first child in only a few months. After all they had been through together, all the tortures and horrors, it finally seemed that the pieces of the giant jigsaw called 'Life' were falling into place. 

"Are you going to help me button this or what?" Marguerite's sharp tone broke through his private musings. Roxton looked up only to find her standing on the shore, mostly dressed, save for the skirt which refused to be fastened. Smiling, he placed his gun beside the rock, stood up and went to her.

"Why must you insist on wearing this particular skirt? You haven't been able to button it yourself for almost two weeks now."

  
  


"Because I like being difficult, that's why. And you wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Sure about that, are you?" He asked as he finally managed to slip the button through its hole.

Marguerite turned to face him, her elegant eyebrows raised, but her reply died in her throat as Roxton quickly bent and kissed her fully on the lips. After a few moments, Marguerite backed away slightly; a mischievous, catlike smirk dancing across her face.

"Why, Lord Roxton! Isn't it beneath the nobility to be affectionate in public?"

"True, your Ladyship, but there is no one around to see us." A soft laugh escaped Marguerite as Roxton moved forward to embrace her once more.

A twig broke somewhere under the jungle foliage.

Roxton's head quickly snapped up and he began to survey the area. All sounds had ceased. There were no birds nor insects, only the thumping of his own chest.

"Marguerite," he whispered. "Get behind the bushes behind you." He indicated the plants which were several yards in the direction opposite from where the sound had emitted. Marguerite quickly obeyed, having the sense not to be stubborn and refuse to leave his side. She had a child to protect now, as well as herself. 

Roxton started to move back toward the boulder, where he had left his gun.

But he wasn't fast enough.

From behind several trees, six vicious savages, clothed in animal hides with their bodies painted several shades of green and brown, appeared, armed with crude, but effective-looking, bows and hatchets.

The tallest, and presumably their leader, stepped forward, swinging one of the hatchets. Roxton easily avoided the stone blade and made a dash for the gun. Two of the warriors fell on him, pinning him to the ground. No matter how hard he fought them, writhing, twisting, even biting, they would not let go. A shadow fell across his face, and looking up he saw he chief standing over him, the hatchet held high.

"No!"

The shout came from about fifteen feet away, but three of the savages quickly silenced the source with their arrows. 

Roxton twisted just in time to see Marguerite's body fall to the ground.

"Marguerite!"

The cry, ripped from his soul, started the warriors. Their chief, recovering first, glared at his men, then began yelling in their native tongue, gesturing violently every so often toward the unmoving form of Marguerite. Striding to the three archers, he backhanded them, then pointed toward the jungle, as if ordering them out of his sight.

But Roxton's eyes never left his beloved wife, and he hardly noticed when the two savages who were holding him tightly to the ground released his arms. They, too, went off into the trees. Jumping up quickly, Roxton glanced at the chief, who's eyes flashed with momentary sympathy and sorrow, before he disappeared after his warriors.

  
  


Pausing only a second in fear of a other attack, Roxton ran to where Marguerite lay still. He gray eyes were closed and as he knelt by her side, he saw three arrows protruding from the Heiress' body; one in her left arm, one slightly above her heart, and one from her swollen abdomen.

"No, Marguerite," he whispered as he swept her into his arms; her dark tresses flowing over his strong arms like an ebony waterfall. "Don't you dare leave me...You can't give up, damn it."

Roxton started to run. He was a strong man by nature, and now, driven by fear and adrenaline, he hardly felt Marguerite's weight at all. As he swiftly dodged trees and vines, he kept whispering to her, afraid that his pleading voice was the only thing keep his wife in the realm of the living. 

Nearing the Treehouse, the hunter call out, his voice choked with the dirt of the grave. "Challenger! Veronica....Malone! Marguerite's been shot!"

~*~

Roxton sat on the balcony while Challenger painstakingly 'operated' on Marguerite in the lab. He didn't even look up as Malone sat down opposite him.

"John," he began. "Veronica's in there now...She's trying to help Challenger.."

Of course, Roxton already know that, but he nodded anyway. 

The reporter watched the other man as he, in turn, gazed out across the plateau, a deathly silence hanging over them like a shroud. Ned sighed, stood, and was about to return to kitchen duty when Roxton suddenly spoke.

"What I don't understand...what makes no sense...is that the savages stopped attacking after they shot her.." The Lord's voice trailed off as he looked up at the younger man. "I mean...they came after me, but when they realized they had hit Marguerite, they stopped...if they were after me, why not finish the job?"

"Well..." said Malone, thinking hard. "I remember reading something in one of Veronica's father's journals about a tribe who found it 'unjust' to kill, even injure, a woman because they were the weaker sex and naturally defenseless...By shooting Marguerite, they had broken a 'code of honor.'" 

Again, Roxton nodded, his haunted eyes searching the jungle once more. Ned followed his gaze, then turned to enter the kitchen. As he made his way through the living area, Malone was almost plowed down by a sniffling Veronica.

She glanced up at him, her normally stunning eyes filled with sadness, then turned to the balcony. The second she stepped out, Roxton was on his feet.

"How is she?...the baby?"

Veronica could only shake her head. "The baby...didn't make it...Challenger tried so hard...but there was nothing...He doesn't think Marguerite will..." She embraced him tightly, sobbing openly. " I am so sorry, John."

As they separated, John looked into the eyes of the young woman he had come to love as a sister, and saw the pain reflected in his own. "I have to see her." Kissing Veronica's forehead, he moved toward the laboratory. 

Marguerite lay on a table, her hair encircling her head like a dark halo. Thankfully, the arrows had been removed, but blood still seeped through the bandages.

"It doesn't look good, old boy." Roxton looked over his shoulder to see Challenger. "The arrows were laced with a slow-acting poison. I was going to send Veronica to search for a plant Arthur and I discovered years back, but I doubt an antidote could be made fast enough... She has lost a considerable amount of blood..."

"We have to try! We owe it to her...Dammit, I owe it to her."

Challenger nodded, and moved out of the room, leaving Roxton with his Sleeping Beauty.

He knelt once more by his beloved Marguerite, feeling his heart in his throat. Roxton carefully held one of her delicate hands in his much larger ones, whispering words of comfort to her. "Please, Marguerite, don't leave me. I love you too much...I...I can't bare to see you lying there, so defenseless. Please, don't leave me...I need you to stay." Unable to hold the tears back any longer, they flowed down his cheeks, with Roxton making no attempt to stop them. 

Closing his eyes, the hunter did something he couldn't remember having done since childhood; he prayed. He prayed for whatever gods or deities there were to help her, to help the both of the.

Roxton was so involved in his heart-filled plea, that he barely noticed his name being whispered.

"John?"

He opened his eyes and found two beautiful gray once staring back. "Marguerite!"

"John..."

"I'm here love. I'm right here...I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Roxton held her hand tighter, willing his strength to her.

"John, it hurts...I...I can't do it...My stomach feels like it is on fire, and I. can't...I can't feel the baby." Marguerite closed her eyes in pain, and Roxton, fearing the worst, called out to her again.

"Marguerite, I want to help you, to take the pain away...but I don't know how. Please, just don't leave me. I don't know how I will survive if I lose you now."

A wave a relief flooded through his body as she opened her eyes once more. However, this time, Roxton saw the pain and weariness that consumed her soul. It was then that he realized how selfish he was being. Pressing her hand to his heart, Roxton whispered, "I am sorry, Marguerite...I am so sorry. I shouldn't ask you to put yourself through so much pain for me..." He voice caught slightly, but pushing it down, he managed to continue. "Rest. Sleep, darling, and dream of the time we shared. I will always remember you, my love. And our baby." He caressed her cheek, brushing away her tears. "Goodnight, beloved. Sweet dreams and we will be together again...I promise." 

Marguerite look up at him, her gray eyes clouding with anger. "How dare you? You kill your child and me, and then presume we will want you in the afterlife??

Roxton shook his head, utterly confused as Marguerite sat up in bed, her eyes now turning toward the entrance. John spun quickly, only to see a more grotesque sight...the bloodied ghosts of William and Summerlee.

"What's the matter, John?" asked his brother. "Why do you keep failing those you care about? First me, next Summerlee, and now even your own wife and daughter!"

  
  


A small silver shadow in the corner sparkled to life. The distorted image of a young girl, about two, shimmered in the setting sun. "Why daddy? Why? Why didn't you save me?"

"Yes, John. Why did you not save all of us?" Summerlee's ghost approached him, the others following suit. They slowly crept forward, like a pack of wild dogs observing their prey, backing him into a corner. John watched in horror as Marguerite stepped in front of the pack, and began to toy with one of the arrows Challenger had left on the table.

"You see, Lord Roxton...when you kill those who care for you, no one will be there to catch you when you fall!" And with that, she plunged the broken arrow that had pierced her own heart into that of the man she married. Echoing his earlier sediments, Marguerite cackled, "Goodnight, beloved."

"NO!"

Roxton gasped as he shot up in bed, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"John? What's wrong?"

"You...you and our baby...died because of a mistake made....it....it was a dream. A nightmare. I am awake, aren't I?"

Marguerite shifted slightly in the bed and pinched him hard.

"Ow!" he yelled.

"Yes, I'd say you are awake. But there are some of us who need their beauty rest, thank you very much!"

As she rolled back over, Roxton couldn't help but smile. Rubbing his sore arm he whispered in her ear, "Goodnight, beloved," before he too drifted back to sleep.

~*~


	4. Story 3

~*~

As first light slowly crept into the Treehouse, Lord John Roxton rolled over to find his bed empty and his wife missing. "Marguerite?" he called softly as stepped out from beneath the covers and pulled on his pants. "Where are you?"

Roxton peeked out of the bedroom and spied his raven-haired bride in the kitchen. "What are YOU doing up at this hour?" he asked her unbelievingly.

"I'm hungry. Does that satisfy your curiosity? Besides, it's not like you can blame me for it." Marguerite smiled as one of her hands dropped to caress her somewhat bulging stomach. The other carried a plate on which several different types of fruit, Raptor mean, and what appeared to be a mound of unidentifiable green mush, were piled on.

"What the devil is that?" Roxton exclaimed, referring to the emerald colored concoction.

"To tell you the truth . . . I'm not quite sure." She answered, sauntering toward the table. "But Assai said it's good for the baby. She bought it up last night while you were out hunting with Malone."

Roxton just shook his head as he pulled out her chair. However, as he did so, his elbow accidently bumped into the plate, which sent it to the ground, and its contents all over Marguerite.

"John! Look what you did! You practically ruined the only nightgown I have that still fits! I don't know if this stuff stains . . . "

Despite the look of disgust on Marguerite's face, John found it hard to resist the smile that threatened to spread across his own. "Oh, come now, love, it isn't that bad. We'll just put it downstairs with the rest of the wash and then go to the water hole to get the . . . um . . . well, to wash it out of your hair."

"You got it in my hair!?!"

~*~

After writing a short note to the others, Lord and Lady Roxton walked to the water hole. Marguerite quickly undressed and entered the cool water, leaving her husband behind on the shore.

Sitting on a larger boulder, Roxton realized how much he loved watching her like this; the sunlight breaking through the treetops to illuminate her wet skin, as if with a heavenly glow. He sighed contently. They had been married for almost a year now, and with their wedding vows still fresh in their minds, were expecting their first child in only a few months. After all they had been through together, all the tortures and horrors, it finally seemed that the pieces of the giant jigsaw called 'Life' were falling into place. 

"Are you going to help me button this or what?" Marguerite's sharp tone broke through his private musings. Roxton looked up only to find her standing on the shore, mostly dressed, save for the skirt which refused to be fastened. Smiling, he placed his gun beside the rock, stood up and went to her.

"Why must you insist on wearing this particular skirt? You haven't been able to button it yourself for almost two weeks now."

  
  


"Because I like being difficult, that's why. And you wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Sure about that, are you?" He asked as he finally managed to slip the button through its hole.

Marguerite turned to face him, her elegant eyebrows raised, but her reply died in her throat as Roxton quickly bent and kissed her fully on the lips. After a few moments, Marguerite backed away slightly; a mischievous, catlike smirk dancing across her face.

"Why, Lord Roxton! Isn't it beneath the nobility to be affectionate in public?"

"True, your Ladyship, but there is no one around to see us." A soft laugh escaped Marguerite as Roxton moved forward to embrace her once more.

A twig broke somewhere under the jungle foliage.

Roxton's head quickly snapped up and he began to survey the area. All sounds had ceased. There were no birds nor insects, only the thumping of his own chest.

"Marguerite," he whispered. "Get behind the bushes behind you." He indicated the plants which were several yards in the direction opposite from where the sound had emitted. Marguerite quickly obeyed, having the sense not to be stubborn and refuse to leave his side. She had a child to protect now, as well as herself. 

Roxton started to move back toward the boulder, where he had left his gun.

But he wasn't fast enough.

From behind several trees, six vicious savages, clothed in animal hides with their bodies painted several shades of green and brown, appeared, armed with crude, but effective-looking, bows and hatchets.

The tallest, and presumably their leader, stepped forward, swinging one of the hatchets. Roxton easily avoided the stone blade and made a dash for the gun. Two of the warriors fell on him, pinning him to the ground. No matter how hard he fought them, writhing, twisting, even biting, they would not let go. A shadow fell across his face, and looking up he saw he chief standing over him, the hatchet held high.

"No!"

The shout came from about fifteen feet away, but three of the savages quickly silenced the source with their arrows. 

Roxton twisted just in time to see Marguerite's body fall to the ground.

"Marguerite!"

The cry, ripped from his soul, started the warriors. Their chief, recovering first, glared at his men, then began yelling in their native tongue, gesturing violently every so often toward the unmoving form of Marguerite. Striding to the three archers, he backhanded them, then pointed toward the jungle, as if ordering them out of his sight.

But Roxton's eyes never left his beloved wife, and he hardly noticed when the two savages who were holding him tightly to the ground released his arms. They, too, went off into the trees. Jumping up quickly, Roxton glanced at the chief, who's eyes flashed with momentary sympathy and sorrow, before he disappeared after his warriors.

  
  


Pausing only a second in fear of a other attack, Roxton ran to where Marguerite lay still. He gray eyes were closed and as he knelt by her side, he saw three arrows protruding from the Heiress' body; one in her left arm, one slightly above her heart, and one from her swollen abdomen.

"No, Marguerite," he whispered as he swept her into his arms; her dark tresses flowing over his strong arms like an ebony waterfall. "Don't you dare leave me...You can't give up, damn it."

Roxton started to run. He was a strong man by nature, and now, driven by fear and adrenaline, he hardly felt Marguerite's weight at all. As he swiftly dodged trees and vines, he kept whispering to her, afraid that his pleading voice was the only thing keep his wife in the realm of the living. 

Nearing the Treehouse, the hunter call out, his voice choked with the dirt of the grave. "Challenger! Veronica....Malone! Marguerite's been shot!"

~*~

Roxton sat on the balcony while Challenger painstakingly 'operated' on Marguerite in the lab. He didn't even look up as Malone sat down opposite him.

"John," he began. "Veronica's in there now...She's trying to help Challenger.."

Of course, Roxton already know that, but he nodded anyway. 

The reporter watched the other man as he, in turn, gazed out across the plateau, a deathly silence hanging over them like a shroud. Ned sighed, stood, and was about to return to kitchen duty when Roxton suddenly spoke.

"What I don't understand...what makes no sense...is that the savages stopped attacking after they shot her.." The Lord's voice trailed off as he looked up at the younger man. "I mean...they came after me, but when they realized they had hit Marguerite, they stopped...if they were after me, why not finish the job?"

"Well..." said Malone, thinking hard. "I remember reading something in one of Veronica's father's journals about a tribe who found it 'unjust' to kill, even injure, a woman because they were the weaker sex and naturally defenseless...By shooting Marguerite, they had broken a 'code of honor.'" 

Again, Roxton nodded, his haunted eyes searching the jungle once more. Ned followed his gaze, then turned to enter the kitchen. As he made his way through the living area, Malone was almost plowed down by a sniffling Veronica.

She glanced up at him, her normally stunning eyes filled with sadness, then turned to the balcony. The second she stepped out, Roxton was on his feet.

"How is she?...the baby?"

Veronica could only shake her head. "The baby...didn't make it...Challenger tried so hard...but there was nothing...He doesn't think Marguerite will..." She embraced him tightly, sobbing openly. " I am so sorry, John."

As they separated, John looked into the eyes of the young woman he had come to love as a sister, and saw the pain reflected in his own. "I have to see her." Kissing Veronica's forehead, he moved toward the laboratory. 

Marguerite lay on a table, her hair encircling her head like a dark halo. Thankfully, the arrows had been removed, but blood still seeped through the bandages.

"It doesn't look good, old boy." Roxton looked over his shoulder to see Challenger. "The arrows were laced with a slow-acting poison. I was going to send Veronica to search for a plant Arthur and I discovered years back, but I doubt an antidote could be made fast enough... She has lost a considerable amount of blood..."

"We have to try! We owe it to her...Dammit, I owe it to her."

Challenger nodded, and moved out of the room, leaving Roxton with his Sleeping Beauty.

He knelt once more by his beloved Marguerite, feeling his heart in his throat. Roxton carefully held one of her delicate hands in his much larger ones, whispering words of comfort to her. "Please, Marguerite, don't leave me. I love you too much...I...I can't bare to see you lying there, so defenseless. Please, don't leave me...I need you to stay." Unable to hold the tears back any longer, they flowed down his cheeks, with Roxton making no attempt to stop them. 

Closing his eyes, the hunter did something he couldn't remember having done since childhood; he prayed. He prayed for whatever gods or deities there were to help her, to help the both of the.

Roxton was so involved in his heart-filled plea, that he barely noticed his name being whispered.

"John?"

He opened his eyes and found two beautiful gray once staring back. "Marguerite!"

"John..."

"I'm here love. I'm right here...I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Roxton held her hand tighter, willing his strength to her.

"John, it hurts...I...I can't do it...My stomach feels like it is on fire, and I. can't...I can't feel the baby." Marguerite closed her eyes in pain, and Roxton, fearing the worst, called out to her again.

"Marguerite, I want to help you, to take the pain away...but I don't know how. Please, just don't leave me. I don't know how I will survive if I lose you now."

A wave a relief flooded through his body as she opened her eyes once more. However, this time, Roxton saw the pain and weariness that consumed her soul. It was then that he realized how selfish he was being. Pressing her hand to his heart, Roxton whispered, "I am sorry, Marguerite...I am so sorry. I shouldn't ask you to put yourself through so much pain for me..." He voice caught slightly, but pushing it down, he managed to continue. "Rest. Sleep, darling, and dream of the time we shared. I will always remember you, my love. And our baby." He caressed her cheek, brushing away her tears. "Goodnight, beloved. Sweet dreams and we will be together again...I promise."

Marguerite look up at him, her gray eyes clouding with anger. "How dare you? You kill your child and me, and then presume we will want you in the afterlife??

Roxton shook his head, utterly confused as Marguerite sat up in bed, her eyes now turning toward the entrance. John spun quickly, only to see a more grotesque sight...the bloodied ghosts of William and Summerlee.

"What's the matter, John?" asked his brother. "Why do you keep failing those you care about? First me, next Summerlee, and now even your own wife and daughter!"

A small silver shadow in the corner sparkled to life. The distorted image of a young girl, about two, shimmered in the setting sun. "Why daddy? Why? Why didn't you save me?"

"Yes, John. Why did you not save all of us?" Summerlee's ghost approached him, the others following suit. They slowly crept forward, like a pack of wild dogs observing their prey, backing him into a corner. John watched in horror as Marguerite stepped in front of the pack, and began to toy with one of the arrows Challenger had left on the table.

"You see, Lord Roxton...when you kill those who care for you, no one will be there to catch you when you fall!" And with that, she plunged the broken arrow that had pierced her own heart into that of the man she married. Echoing his earlier sediments, Marguerite cackled, "Goodnight, beloved."

"NO!"

Roxton gasped as he shot up in bed, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"John? What's wrong?"

"Nothing....I...I just had a nightmare. That's all."

"Oh? What was it about?" asked his wife as she rolled over to face him.

"Roxton smiled. "Nothing you have to worry about." Bending down, he kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight, Veronica."

~*~


End file.
